


Spotlight

by Cliffordiste (cliffordiste)



Category: ONE OK ROCK
Genre: M/M, Toruka - Freeform, prince!taka, royal au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 12:15:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10277726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cliffordiste/pseuds/Cliffordiste
Summary: Out of all the people in the entire world, out of all the minds in the universe, Toru's heart just had to latch itself onto Taka's - who just so happens to be the crown prince. If he'd known up front about the struggles of having the press follow your every move, learning and practicing tedious etiquette and suffering insincerity from all sides, would Toru have walked away before any of it could happen? Not a chance.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I know I have two 5SOS fics to finish, but with a new fandom come new stories and this one just kept writing itself in my head, it needed to get out. I hope you'll enjoy!
> 
>  **Some practical information** :  
> I. This fic takes place in some country I made up, partly because that way I can focus on the characters rather than researching the details and possibilities of the real life, but mainly because I don't want to offend anyone of any nationality (this is also why I won't be trying to make them very Japanese in character, I simply don't have enough knowledge to create believable behaviour true to Japanese culture and I don't think I ever will, given the fact I never grew up there). It's a somewhat western country, much like where I'm from. The people are ruled mainly by politicians but the royal family still plays an important part, too, though mostly to the public eye.  
> II. Something I feel I need to address is the fact I made Alex a character. He's no longer in the band, and I definitely don't like what I've heard of him (in terms of why he was kicked out), however, it was necessary to have him be the guitarist of the band because there is no one else.  
> III. Ryota will be joining the story later on, and the role of bassguitarist in this fic is assigned to an OC called Gabriel (Gabe) as Ryota is in no position to be in the band at the start of this fic.  
> IV. Why yes, of course there are guest sightings of 5SOS and 21p in this fic. They're friends with OOR in real life, so why not (:  
> V. Lastly, Taka's parents (aka the king and queen) are still together in this fic even though divorced in real life. Taka's last name will be Moriuchi.
> 
>  **Trigger warnings** : smoking, vaping, drinking (though not a lot of any of it). Later on there will be mentions of physical/mental abuse, though nothing too descriptive and I will definitely let you know in the notes at the beginning of the chapter(s).
> 
>  **Disclaimer** : I in no way claim to know any member of ONE OK ROCK personally, nor do I claim this is the way they are or see each other. I've simply taken an impression and turned those into characters living a story for you to enjoy.
> 
> All right, that was that.  
>  **I hope you'll enjoy this story!**

The show had been fun, it was one of Toru’s better days; his voice was cooperating, his fingers were steady on his guitar’s neck and some of the regulars had even brought friends along. Maybe Mitch would finally start paying them for entertaining the pub’s customers.

He took a drag from the cigarette dangling from his lips. Deep down he knew Mitch wouldn’t give them a single penny for their performances, not even as much as a free beer. Toru didn’t mind that much, he didn’t care about the money, but the feeling that the bar’s owner was taking advantage of that fact was starting to grow on him. A little bit of appreciation from Mitch’s side would definitely go a long way.

He could see it in his bandmates’ eyes. That constant conflict between gratitude and resentment,  of feeling lucky and feeling used. Toru knew Tomoya would never admit it, valuing their long years of friendship above any shot of turning music into a job, but Gabe and Alex weren’t so subtle. Multiple times they’d signify their wish to look for a different place to play their shows: somewhere that could house more people, somewhere with a different crowd, somewhere they might even get a little something back. And Toru wanted that for them, but he wasn’t sure he wanted that for himself.

Toru leaned his shoulder against the metal door leading to the back room of the pub, the sharp relief poking into the leather of his jacket. Tiny puffs of smoke escaped from his lips, his cigarette now held loosely between his fingers. It was awfully warm out today.

“ _Oomph_!”

A sudden impact knocked the air right out of his lungs. Disoriented, Toru whipped his head around to find a scrawny kid drowning in a way-too-big flannel shirt getting up from the ground and staring at him wide eyed.

Toru brushed some imaginary dirt off of his jacket and was about to address the kid when his eyes caught sight of a smoldering Camel in the middle of a pile of dust and rubbish. His cigarette. His _last_ cigarette.

_That’s just great._

The kid saw him staring. “Sorry, I’m sorry!” he said, raising his hands in the air, “I swear I didn’t see you. I’m so sorry.”

Sighing, Toru raked a hand through his hair, studying the kid’s composure; he hopped from one foot onto the other, making his curls bounce, his limbs trembling with an uncontained, restless energy. His face was flushed and his eyes darted nervously from side to side. “It’s fine,” Toru said, his voice low. “Are you okay?”

The scrawny kid rubbed a hand down his face before his ears perked up, his skinny neck stretching all the way. Hasty footsteps neared the end of the alley. The kid froze, “Shit!”

Toru frowned. “Someone after you?”

The words were barely out or a bellowing voice bounced off the walls. “He went this way!”

The kid’s eyes widened as he stared at Toru helplessly.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Toru grabbed his upper arm, flung the door behind him open, yanked him inside by his shirt and slammed the door shut when they were both safely inside. Heart pounding in his chest, he pressed his ear against the rough metal, the kid copying his movements only centimeters away from his face. Toru felt the kid’s rapid, hot breath on his cheeks.

They listened in silence until the thunder of footsteps outside passed.

The kid met his gaze and Toru raised his brows at him expectantly.

“So,” Toru began when the kid didn’t say anything, “Are you being followed by police or what?”

The kid’s eyes widened even further — up to the point Toru was positive they were going to pop out of his head — and after a brief silence, he burst into laughter.

Toru’s lips curled into a lopsided smirk. He straightened his back and held out his hand. “I’m Toru.”

The kid’s laughter faded into a genuine — and quite dazzling, or so Toru thought — smile. “Taka.”

Taka’s palms were warm and clammy as they connected with Toru’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, Taka.”

Taka snorted. “I know it wasn’t, really. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Toru waved it off, leaning his shoulder against the wall and flicking his blond tresses to the side. “But tell me: I’m not getting into trouble for hiding you here, am I?”

Taka shook his head. “Don’t think so,” he said, a chuckle leaving his lips. “Where is ‘here’ anyway?” He looked around the dimly lit room. There was only one window and it was covered with black film, an old, heavy curtain drawn to the side. The paint on the window sill was cracked in several places.

The wall across the one with the door leading to the alley, housed another door; this one made out of some cheap wood, the handle hanging askew from a single screw. There was a mini fridge, three beer created turned onto the side to form a makeshift table, an old leather sofa adjacent to it, and a pile of backpacks flung into a corner.

“Oh,” Toru said, “The bar’s backroom. The rest of my band’s still in there, drinking.” He tried to hide his annoyance by circling around the couch and flopping down onto it, patting the space beside him for the kid to sit down.

“You’re not?”

Toru frowned. “Not what?”

“Drinking,” Taka said.

“No” Toru said, shaking his head. “Have to get up early for work tomorrow, so… Plus, _someone_ has to take those idiots home safely.”

A bubbly laugh rose from Taka’s chest, his smile bright. He folded his legs underneath him and rested his palms on his knees, his body angled to face Toru. “You’re the band-mom already, huh?”

Toru slapped his leg but couldn’t help but join his chuckles. “Only to Tomoya,” he admitted.

“Tomoya?”

“Our drummer — my flatmate. He’s the eldest but he needs to be supervised at all times. Though he doesn’t drink much, he does have a … soft spot for vaping,” Toru explained, lowering his brows into a serious frown.

Taka shook his head amusedly before his back straightened and he went to retrieve something from him pocket. “Speaking of getting home safely, give me a minute,” he said, fishing his phone out of his jeans pocket.

Toru tried not to stare as Taka’s slender fingers tapped the screen hastily, because in his hands was a shiny rose golden phone. An iPhone. The newest model, and a special edition by the looks of it. It must've cost a fortune.

Taka brought the phone to his ear, angling away from Toru and mumbling into the mic. “Hey, Stephen. Can you come pick me up? … Yeah, I ran into some. I know, you told me not to go on my own. … All right, all right. Just come pick me up, will you? … The address? Oh. What's the address?” He addressed the last part to Toru by turning his head, and Toru automatically blurted out the pub’s location. “How long until you get here? Okay, ‘til then!”

Man, Taka really seemed to have this Stephen guy wrapped around his finger. Was he hiring him, or was it a close friend or even family? None of them would surprise Toru. When Taka had been on the phone, he seemed all business, nothing was left of the scrawny kid hopping helplessly from one foot to another.

Toru realised he'd pinned him all wrong. Taka was older than he'd thought, maybe even around the same age as him, and when he wasn't smiling, there were tired lines on his face.

“So,” Toru said, clearing his throat, “How long before you're taken away?”

“Thirty minutes, tops.”

Toru made a faint noise of acknowledgement.

“What? Don't think you can handle half an hour?” Taka said, that mischievous grin spreading on his face again.

“Oh, I can handle it,” Toru said matter-of-factly. “The question is: can _you_?”

“That wholeheartedly depends on how you intend to occupy my time.”

“Well… The floor could use some sweeping, you can start with that. I have a list of other chores tha—” Toru was cut off by a kick to his shin. “That's a no, I'm guessing?”

“Preferably not,” Taka said, laughing.

“In that case, make yourself at home."

~

Toru carefully places his guitar bag in the corner and shrugged off his jacket before opening the door to the rowdy front room of the bar. His eyes scanned the chamber. Most of the regulars were seated where they always were; Ashton and Michael sitting on the high bar stools at the far end, Jamil standing close to the stage, chatting to Tyler, and — wait. Was that… ?

It definitely was. Through the low lighting and the haze of smoke, Toru recognised him quite clearly; the curly headed flannel guy from last week. Taki? Taka?

“Toru!”

He nearly jumped out of his skin at Mitch’s greeting, playing it off as if he were planning on shifting posture all along.

“Glad you’re here. You were running so late I was afraid you weren’t coming at all! Whatever happened to being an hour early?”

Toru winced at the words. He was fully aware he was late, but he’d been hoping to just get on with the show and put everything behind him. “Yeah, sorry. There were some problems with work that urgently needed my attention,” he said, waving it away with one of his hands. Actually, his dad had called him in tears again, but he wasn’t about to tell Mitch that. They were friendly, not friends.

“Work? On a Sunday?”

Toru ignored him, nodding instead in the direction of flannel guy — who, by the way, wasn’t wearing a flannel this time, instead sporting a light blue denim jacket — sitting at alone at one of the round tables in the back. “Any idea who that is?”

Mitch shrugged, “Didn’t catch his name, but he’s been ordering passion fruit juice every damn day.”

“What?” Toru blinked.

“He’s been orderi—”

“Yeah, I heard what you said,” Toru interrupted, frowning at the smaller man next to him. “But every day?”

Mitch nodded, “Been coming here all week. Nice bloke, though most folks seem to stay away from him a little, say he’s someone important. I say he’s just another shy guy looking for a girl he saw in here one day.”

Despite himself, Toru snorted. “Girls — in here?”

Mitch gave a helpless shrug, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, “Might be another bloke he’s looking for. You never know when a guy orders them fruit drinks.”

“Everyone has preferences, Mitch,” Toru said, rolling his eyes. “Plus, you’re the one who put it on the menu in the first place.”

“Bloody wish I hadn’t,” Mitch grumbled, folding his arms above his belly. “Would you like anything before you get playing?”

Toru shook his head, “You know I don't. I’ll just go tune my guitar and get my stuff, and I’ll be ready to go. Ask me again when it’s done.” He glanced sideways at Mitch, his lips curling smugly.

“I sure as hell won’t,” Mitch laughed.

With one last look at Taka, he turned around and made his way into the backroom. He’d talk to him after the show.

~

Toru looked at his watch before lowering his arm to rest his hand in his lap while the other was wrapped around a bottle of a thick, sweet tasting beer. He sighed.

It had been an hour since they’d made their way off the stage, and still Toru couldn’t get himself to talk to Taka. There had been this one moment when he’d been on stage, singing their newest song — and one Toru was most proud of so far — when he’d accidentally caught Taka’s gaze. There’d been this look on his face, this flicker in his eyes that Toru knew so well. He recognised it. That spark. It stopped him from looking away even though the rest of his body effortlessly made its way through the rest song. He’d held his gaze too long, only realising his mistake when the others in the room followed his eyes to look at Taka, who then averted his eyes and looked at the dusty floorboards.

If he hadn’t already found it hard to talk to him, he definitely thought it was impossible now.

Just as he was about to take another swig of his beer, someone behind him cleared his throat.

“Tomo, I told you, just a little long—” He was cut short at the sight of a curly headed young man, only these weren’t the dip-dyed, unruly locks he was expecting. “Oh,” he breathed, “You’re not Tomoya.”

Taka laughed, “No, I’m not. Can you tell by the lack of smoke?”

Toru followed Taka’s gaze over his shoulder to look back at Tomoya, who sat on the edge of the stage, laughing and vaping with Tyler and someone Toru didn’t recognise. He shook his head and grinned. “It’s clearly the only way I can tell you two apart,” he said dryly.

And then Taka was sitting down, taking a seat in the bar stool next to Toru’s, and Toru wanted to either slap or kiss him for it. He decided on doing none.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat, “Enjoyed the music?”

Taka’s back straightened, “Ah, yes! Definitely! When you told me about your band, you didn’t tell me you were actually any good.”

Toru shrugged, his lips puckering as he tried not to smile. “Are you telling me you didn’t assume that from my incredible good looks?”

“Ah - I - Sure, but —” Blushing furiously, Taka looked up from underneath his lashes. “And you’re just playing with me.”

Grinning smugly, Toru raised his bottle to his lips. “You’re easy bait,” he said as he took another swig.

“Never heard that before.”

Toru laughed and picked at the label on his bottle as a comfortable silence enveloped them. “Everyone’s wondering what brings you here,” he said eventually, studying Taka from the corner of his eye.

Taka gnawed on his bottom lip. “I was looking for you, actually.”

Somehow, that delighted Toru. “Why?”

Taka shrugged. “To thank you for last week. I know I kind of barged in unannounced and took up quite some of your time, so I wanted to let you know you really helped a guy out, and I appreciate it.” Even though his voice was soft, Toru had no problem distinguishing it from the clatter around them.

“No problem,” Toru responded automatically. “You know,” he started, leaning his elbow on the bar, “I’m only here on Sundays.”

Taka laughed, showing off perfectly white teeth. “Learnt that the hard way.”

A smile spread on Toru’s face again, his chest feeling strangely warm. Ugh, he really needed to stop all this ridiculous smiling he was doing. “Hey, how’d you like to have my number in case you ever want to … _thank_ me again?” It was out before he knew it. He sucked in a deep breath, his heart pounding way too hard at so simple a question.

Taka’s eyes narrowed a little, observing every inch of Toru’s face closely. A chill ran down his spine. Whatever it was Taka was looking for, Toru hoped he wouldn’t find it.

Then Taka’s shoulders relaxed, his eyes brightening a little as he sat up a little straighter, his ridiculously expensive phone already in hand. “Sure.”

Pushing back a relieved sigh, Toru recited his phone number, nearly messing it up due to the lack of practice. He rarely ever gave his number to anyone; his family already had it — except for his mother, thank the heavens — and his colleagues could just ask the administration when they needed to reach him. “Yamashita,” he added as an afterthought.

Taka looked up from his phone, batting his eyelashes at him, “What?”

“Yamashita. It’s my last name.”

“Oh, right,” Taka said, chuckling, “Because I already know so many Torus.” His fingers tapped rapidly on the screen, his eyes flicking to the top right corner, a frown curling his brows. “I’m afraid I’ve got to get going. I’ll text you, yeah?”

Toru frowned back at Taka, a little annoyed at how quickly Taka was wrapping things up; already hopping off his bar stool and zipping up that denim jacket of his. “Yeah, sure,” he said instead, nodding meekly.

Turning, Taka waved and started walking away, but stopped mid-step. He turned on his heels and strode towards Toru again, his hand sliding into his jacket’s chest pocket. “I almost forgot. These are for you,” he said, tossing something onto the bar.

Then he was gone.

Toru stared as a familiar little box slid over the wooden surface and came to a halt in front of him. It was a package of Camels — and though unopened, the corners were worn and rounded, the cardboard lightly crumpled and warm against his palm as he picked it up.

He realised he was smiling again.

**Author's Note:**

> So, that was the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed it. If you have any thoughts, please don't hesitate to leave a comment, it'd make my day.
> 
> come yell at me about toruka on [my tumblr](http://cliffordiste.tumblr.com/).


End file.
